You Shall Not Pass (Or . . .?)

So, what happens when a school has a bunch of permit kids (a student who has a home district, but has been given the chance to learn at another school in a different district) that aren’t performing? What happens when these permit kids stop passing classes, or make themselves a-g ineligible by getting a D or F? Oh, and what happens when enrollment is down in the district and to send a chunk of kids back to their home school would mean losing a teacher?
Quite the questions. It comes down to a couple of philosophies, I would guess. One requires the learning establishment to take a stand, have a brand, and not worry about losing teachers if it means keeping the integrity of the school. The other philosophy threatens students that they better get those scores up, lets the bad grades slide a little, but keeps kids and teachers.
Quite the philosophies. One loses teachers. My first teaching job was initially cut short because of declining enrollment, so I know how that works and feels. However, it’s hard to sell your school to good students when word gets out that many kids in classes have a D or F and drag down the learning. Because that’s the other side of it all–if you let it slide a little, it might slide a lot, and classes are left with a bunch of kids that aren’t from the area, aren’t getting good grades, aren’t buying in to the culture, and aren’t adding to the greatness of a school.
So, what would one do in that situation? Do you pass kids along with a C? It’s not like kids who get a few C’s are going to get into Harvard, but maybe that grade will be the impetus the student needs to turn things around. Some have even suggested that we eliminate the D, making the class almost a PASS/FAIL option. The problem with that, though, is that a D is a passing grade. A student could easily graduate from high school with a 1.0 GPA. Impressive, yeah?
If I’ve learned anything from movies, sports, or teaching, or teaching movies, the most successful mentors, teachers, and coaches were always ones with their vision–call it somewhere along the lines of “my way or the highway.” There used to be this wrestling coach at our school. His program, his rules, his work ethic. The wrestlers never lost. Ever. When he left, the wrestlers lost a few, then lost more. The wrestling team went from CIF champs every year to not a peep in the last years. He now coaches at a junior college that wins all the time. It’s not a coincidence.
Sadly, it starts with a philosophy. And that philosophy starts at the top–from teachers, to counselors, to the dean, administration, and even the district folk. Kids come and go. That’s cyclical. But if you put out a viable product, people will come.
There’s a reason Woolworth and Montgomery Ward and Mervyn’s don’t exist. There’s a reason Penney’s and Sears’ struggle. All of those businesses had the mindset of the old days, when they first started out. That’s the past, and the present has, and will, roll right on past these businesses.
I guess those hypothetical schools and districts I wrote about here should look into In-n-Out High School, or Trader Joe’s Elementary. Everyone’s always happy there, they seem pretty busy, and, even though the names would be tough to swallow, their products would not be.